


Fragrant

by BoomyMcBlasty



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Post-Game(s), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 12:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoomyMcBlasty/pseuds/BoomyMcBlasty
Summary: Lorenz and Marianne have been husband and wife for three months, but have yet to consummate their marriage.Marianne takes matters into her own hands.





	Fragrant

**Author's Note:**

> Set after their shared epilogue, with a slightly older and more confident Marianne.

Lorenz has been nothing short of a perfect husband, and that is exactly Marianne’s problem.

The abundance of kisses he leaves on her person—on her hair as they wake up together; on her cheek or hand when she is finished dressing; on her lips when the servants aren’t around—is a clear indication of his love. As if his words weren’t enough! Lorenz’s poetry has made her whole body shake time and time again, and his tender whispers once the candle’s fire is no more fill her chest with the blazing flames of love.

And yet. And yet.

They still have to become one.

Perhaps it’s her fault, she muses; she was trembling like a newborn chick on their wedding night. Lorenz, ever the nobleman, told her not to worry; they could savor their first night together once she was ready. His eyes were glossy with desire, yet he kept his words reverent and his hands to himself.

That was three months ago.

His body is so warm at night, wrapped around her back. Marianne feels a weird ache, longs for the hunger in his eyes. Sometimes, when Lorenz is asleep and she fancies herself a bit daring, she presses her back against his legs. His arousal grows against her thighs, unmistakable and hot. Desire takes a hold of her heart, but he’s sleeping, and she would never force herself on him. Sometimes Lorenz awakens and apologizes profusely before giving her his back.

Three months… Marianne needs to take matters into her own hands is she wants to make her dreams a reality. She must seduce him. Goddess, she feels conniving at the thought...

It’s a quiet day in the Gloucester Manor. The rain is a blessing for the rose gardens, but not for Lorenz’s mood; he hasn’t been able to go for his daily ride and it shows. He’s reviewing a letter with the slightest hint of a pout, which Marianne finds adorable.

She looks at the stacks of papers on her desk, scattered between the quills and the ink bottles, before stealing another look at her husband.

The hair that frames Lorenz’s face is silky soft, yet his features are sharp, almost unforgivably so. Marianne is rather fond of his lips, and the downward curve of them accentuate their plumpness. Goddess, she wants to kiss his bad mood away.

Her eyes fall lower, on his broad shoulders. The ornate shirt he’s wearing, while beautiful, covers something even more breathtaking: his arms, muscular and strong, able to carry her like a bride for miles, before laying her gently on the bed...

That’s it.

Marianne rises from her desk. Despite her red cheeks, she is the picture of determination.

“Dear?” Lorenz asks, raising his eyes from the letter.

“I prepared a surprise for you.” A white lie—the idea has danced in her head for days, but she hasn’t physically prepared it yet. “Will you come to the bedroom in twenty minutes?”

Lorenz’s eyes widen and he searches her face. What is he looking for? “To the bedroom?” 

“Yes,” she says louder than intended, before turning on her heels and walking towards the door.

Are twenty minutes enough? If she hurries.

A small part of her, the Marianne of the past, wonders if she’s making a mistake. She hushes it while undressing. She deserves all the love Lorenz can give her—she is worthy of his whispers, of his kisses, and of his body. Desire emboldens it and makes her shake. 

She craves him. She wants to see his bare beauty, wants to feel his solid body against her own, wants him to quench the warmth pooling between her legs.

Two light raps on the door make Marianne’s heart jump in her chest.

“My, love, it’s me.” Lorenz’s voice sounds guarded. Could he know about the surprise?

Marianne unbraided her long hair and let it fan under her. The room is not cold by any means, but her bare skin feels tingling with anticipation. She wants to be alluring, like the sirens of mythology; she amassed pillows under her back to make the curve of her breasts more tempting. The candles cast a soft light on her skin—soft and tantalizing, hopefully.

“Come in.”

When Lorenz opens the door, Marianne hears his a sharp intake of breath, perfectly audible despite the rain hitting their window. His hand is still on the handle; he is frozen at the doorstep, admiring her. Marianne tries not to squirm under his eyes, but the attention makes her blush.

Lorenz opens his mouth to speak, but seems unable to do so. It’s working!

Should she motions for him to come hither? That seems too lewd, and not like herself. “Will you close the door, please?” Her voice seems to shake Lorenz from a dream. Her husband closes the door behind his back. He covers his mouth with his hand.

“Will you not join me?” she asks again.

“M-Marianne, dear…” Did he just shake? He did, she saw it. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I read that the ladies of Gloucester bathe in rose water on their wedding night.”

Lorenz’s eyes fall on the bowl she left on the nightstand, filled with fragrant water and rose petals. They never consummated their marriage, so Marianne never got the chance to experience her husband’s care.

Lorenz inches closer to the bed, loosening the collar of his shirt. Marianne can see the shape of his arousal contoured by the white riding pants.

“I will bathe you.” His words come out stilted. “If you so desire. You know I can’t deny you anything.”

_ That’s not true _, she thinks to herself. She should be bathed after they consummate. Is he going to deny her again?

Lorenz’s gaze is hot on her body. He bites his lips after indulging on her breasts—how would his mouth feel on her? Marianne feels almost dizzy. His eyes follow the curve of her waist and hips, and he lets his silky hair shield his face. Is he being bashful?

Lorenz fishes a fresh towel out of the nightstand, still fully focused on her, and dips it gently in the rose water.

The bed creaks when he climbs with his knee on it. He has, very pointedly, avoided to look at her face. Is he afraid of her expression? As if she could possibly feel scared. Marianne loves him too much. She trusted him with the secret of her curse, she trusts him with her life.

Lorenz’s touch is gentle, but the wet towel makes her shudder. He rinses her shoulder, and the sweet scent of roses tickles her nose.

“My apologies. Is it cold?” Lorenz is trying to keep his voice soft, but there is an edge in it that Marianne has never heard before; it makes her feel more daring than usual.

After moving onto her collarbone, Lorenz slides the warm towel on her ribs. That just won’t do. Marianne grabs his wrist, gently, and watches his lips tremble as she drags his hand (and the towel) on her breast.

“Ah…” He’s out of words, and for a moment, Marianne can only hear the sound of the rain outside. His fingers dig in her firm roundness for a brief second before he turns, sharply, to dip the towel in the warm rose water.

That brief touch steals Marianne’s breath away. She needs more, her whole body craves more of her husband. She knows a way to make him yield, to have him give her more. Lorenz’s resistance to her seduction is making her more desperate and less embarrassed by her own thoughts.

Her husband rinses her stomach and waist with half-lidded eyes, working quickly to appear passionless, yet Marianne sees the fever behind his façade ready to crumble.

Before Lorenz can return to the bowl, she places a foot on his shoulder. One of his unspoken weaknesses, one it took her awhile to notice. Lorenz gulps down and looks at her leg, visibly shaken. His hair touches her skin when he tilts his head to look longingly at her foot. He bites his lip, hardens his jaw. Marianne doesn’t see the appeal of it, but it seems to be working on him. Lorenz, impossibly gentle, places a hand on the arc of her foot and closes his eyes.

“Marianne, my dear…”

She waits for him to complete his sentence, but words escape him. After a few seconds, he tries to move her foot away.

That really will not do.

Marianne hooks her leg behind his neck and tries to draw him in. Lorenz is stronger, of course, and seems frozen in place. Her attempt is futile and he is unmoving… save for a twitch in his pants.

“M-Marianne…”

He still has the fortitude to resist her. Very well.

“Lorenz Hellman Gloucester!” At the mention of his full name, Lorenzs’ eyes focus on her face. Marianne feels a tingling sensation in her mouth. To be desired… to be wanted so much, yet resisted at the same time. She is not scared, she is not putting on a brave face. She wants him. “Do you desire me?”

“Marianne, my Marianne.” Finally his hands run up her calf, rougher than before, but not unkind. He rests his head against her leg and lets his hair hide his face. “How could I not desire my beautiful wife? Your tresses remind me of the waves of the Airmid, glittering with secrets. Your skin is unsullied like the freshest rose of our gardens…”

He is stalling.

Marianne moves her foot lower, tracing his chest and thin waist, and places it against his warm hardness. Lorenz lets out a wheeze.

“My love…” He closes his eyes to focus on his words. “The first night is supposed to hurt. I could never… not for something as inconsequential as my pleasure.”

It’s Marianne’s turn to breathe in deeply to ground herself. How could her man be so wrong in his assessment, yet so right for her? So caring and kind, impossibly so.

She sits on the bed and wraps her arms around his shoulders, feeling his silky hair tickle her face. “Your pleasure is mine, Lorenz, my love,” she whispers, tenderly.

“Marianne, I…” Lorenz swallows thickly. “If that is the case, I have denied you for far too long.”

She nods, hiding her face in his neck. The scent of roses dances with his cologne, intoxicating and sweet. “Take me, or… I’ll take you myself.”

That makes him chuckle nervously. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Only then Marianne realizes the implications of her words. She parts from him, feeling embarrassed for the first time that evening. “I… you know what I mean.”

Lorenz chuckles again and kisses her forehead. When he cups her face to lock eyes with her, Marianne can feel all the love he still has to give her that night, and can feel her own bubble up in her chest, sweet and warm like the fragrant rose water.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for their support chain. I wanted to write the actual smut but I can't lewd Marianne.  
Hope you liked it!


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